Prince on Ice
by Hermione Prime
Summary: Harry is an aspiring figure skater whose dream is to win a premium scholarship to Hogwarts School of Ice Skating. Tom Riddle is a five-time World Championship winner who is looking to make his coaching debut. Their meeting will change Harry's life and force him to tread the dark waters under the ice. Inspired by Yuri on Ice.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: God, it's been ages. It's the worst kind of time for me to write because exams are in a week, but I watched Yuri on Ice and the episodes are coming out so slowly that I just had to find something else skating related to occupy my time. So this happened. _

* * *

The Love of Ice

"Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley, competing in pair skating," Severus Snape intoned, eyes glancing up from the list and boring into Harry. "What would winning Hogwarts' Premium Scholarship mean to you?"

Ginny's hands clutched tighter at his arm, too tense to speak. Harry's mouth suddenly ran dry. A thousand thoughts flitted through his mind.

Sitting in front of him was – oh God – Severus Snape, practically a veteran in the ice skating world. His career had ended after a major leg injury but his legacy shone through his students – each brighter than the last. And then, separated by an empty seat from Snape was Minerva McGonagall, the prima ballerina who switched careers halfway in her twenties and took the ice skating world by storm.

"Mister Potter?" McGonagall said.

The question broke through the haze of his mind.

Harry flushed. "O-oh yes, it would mean the world to me. To us" – he glanced at Ginny – "I mean, there's no other way we can go to Hogwarts. The schooling fees alone … So, well, yes. It'd be great," he finished weakly.

Snape smiled at him, though Harry rather thought the curl of his lip looked more like a sneer. "Unfortunately, Mister Potter, we only give out ten scholarships annually, and none of them to charity cases."

"I-I know that, sir. We'll do our best …"

… he hoped.

Nothing short of their best performance could hope to land them the scholarship. And it _did_ mean everything to him – the chance to finally, _finally_ go to Hogwarts, to pursue his dreams, to prove to his parents he could do this.

The alternative was unthinkable.

McGonagall smiled. "That's the spirit. All the best, Mister Potter, Miss Weasley."

Harry flexed his fingers, smoothed back his hair – waxed for the occasion. His skin tingled with anxiety. The cold seeped into his bones. His legs felt like they would give way any moment, if not for the skates that hugged his ankles snuggly.

Harry flashed a smile at Ginny and she nodded.

Together, they stepped onto the rink.

The music started.

Harry let his legs slide over the ice in a smooth half-moon. He threw one arm up, so that the only thing still keeping tethered to Ginny was his left hand. He could feel the power of each muscle in his legs, dormant. Waiting.

The violins crescendoed.

Their bond broke.

And Harry was flying.

He weaved across the ice, light as a feather. The ice was alive beneath his feet. Singing to him. The music carried him. He skated like he was evading something under the ice, darting away but never straying too far.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny springing off the ice, her lithe body twisting once – twice – three times in a triple Lutz. The music hit a familiar note. He twisted around, a leg behind him to power his movements and caught Ginny just as her feet hit the ice to throw her up again.

As her leg went swinging over his shoulder, head dangling in front of his own, Harry propelled her into a flip. She landed like an angel and they went down flat in a death spiral.

Her body was almost parallel to the ice as Harry pivoted on the heel of his blade. Round and round in a circle. Harry felt stronger and stronger even as his arms grew weaker and weaker. A smile split across his face.

They were _really_ doing it!

The music crashed down, and Harry let go of Ginny's hand, allowing her to drift away from him. A leaf in a gust of strong wind.

He had been looking forward to this part.

Pirouetting on the ice so that the tip of his blade pointed to Ginny again, Harry rushed at her figure. Head on. Ginny ran, skates leaving delicate, thin lines in the ice as she fled from him.

He mentally timed the music – three, two, one – felt the energy behind his leg, and flung himself up. He went sailing through the air, up in a triple axel that left him deliciously dizzy. Up, up – down.

His weight hit the ice wrong.

His fingers grappled at nothing for purchase. Harry managed to keep his arms still – thank God. He could only imagine what Snape would think if he started flailing like an eel. His entire body tilted forwards. Too much. No.

It couldn't be over like this. Time seemed to slow down.

Harry launched himself into the air a second time. Before his body could succumb completely to gravity. Before he had time to fall. Double toe loop. He hadn't gained enough height, but his rhythm was perfect.

He landed solidly on the ice, swung Ginny up into the air by her waist, lifting her over his head as he danced across the ice.

Warm fluttered through his chest as the music ended.

 _There_.

They had done it. A feeling of triumph lapped at his heart. It was one of their best performances. No grievous mistakes, no mistimed jumps – he'd even pulled off the triple Axel!

If he was honest, he messed that one up half the time, even when they were just practicing. This was a minor miracle. Harry swept Ginny into a hug, laughing as they stepped off the rink. He was just _so_ happy.

He had given his best. Ginny's best.

Fred and George and Ron would be so pleased that their little sister finally made it to _Hogwarts_. They mocked it, of course, calling it the 'rich people' school, but they knew how much it meant to her. To them.

Suddenly Harry couldn't wait to get back to the Burrow with Ginny.

It had been such a thrill that he was still short of breath. Panting. Feeling the pleasant heat in his cheeks and on his palms. The slight trembling of his muscles, both from exhaustion and from exhilaration.

God. It was as if the doors that swelled shut before him suddenly reappeared. Opened. And behind it was a whole new world –

"– That was poorly done."

All the air left him.

It felt as if Severus Snape had upped and done a beautiful quadruple Axel and landed on Harry's stomach. Hard. All the warmth drained out of his body.

He blinked.

"I'm sorry?"

Snape went on as if he hadn't even heard him. "Very poorly done. Your choreography – if it can even be called that – wasn't even a proper pair skating choreography. You may as well have been prancing by yourself. You ignored each other from the moment you started to the moment you finished."

Harry felt a trance-like numbness settle over his mind.

This couldn't be happening. This was one of their best performances. They couldn't possibly be refusing –

"Severus, please," McGonagall said.

When she turned around, her eyes softened. "You are both extremely talented. _I_ thought you were good. Your passion was the highlight of your piece –"

"Passion is nothing without technique, and _his_ technique was repulsive."

Harry's heart thudded painfully against his chest. He ground his skate blades into the floor to drown out the choked sound he almost let loose. Oh God – please don't let him have ruined Ginny's chances. He'd never forgive himself if he did.

"Severus, you're being too harsh. His jumps were impressive –"

"Impressively mediocre."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes.

"Oh please," Snape scoffed, as he shuffled the papers. "Don't act as if even our youngest students can't outskate the pair of them. Pair skating is about skating as one. They were like a split orange."

Harry let his gaze drop to his feet. He had been so absorbed in the music, so _self_ -absorbed that he barely paid attention to Ginny until he absolutely had to. He should have looked at her more, done more with her …

With a sigh, McGonagall reached out and grabbed a pen. Even from where he was standing, Harry could see the red crosses written next to his and Ginny's names.

His chest might as well have been torn open.

"You were good, believe me," she said. "It's just that being good doesn't cut it at Hogwarts. You have to be exceptional. I'm sorry."

Harry knelt down and, with trembling hands, started taking off his skates.

"Wait."

A young man, who could not have been older than eighteen, strode towards them from the other side of the rink. Dark haired, smoothed ebony curls and blue eyes on a face that Harry could recognise even in his sleep.

His heart leapt into his throat.

Tom Riddle. The youngest five-time winner of the World Championships. What the _hell_ was he doing here? Harry's gaze fell to the empty chair. _Oh_. Shit. He was the third judge.

When Tom Riddle met his eyes, all coldness like the ice itself – and Harry expected nothing less from someone who practically made his home in the ice – his mouth pulled up. "I agree with Severus. His pair skating _was_ repulsive."

Snape smirked.

Harry's vision shuttered black for a split second. And he took a step back. This wasn't even disappointing anymore – this was downright bloody agony. To hear the testimony of how bad – how _utterly repulsive_ – he was, and from Tom Riddle's lips.

"But I find myself captivated nonetheless."

Snape started.

Riddle tapped his thigh in thought. "The passion, the drive, the interaction. The kind of skating that spins a story." He smiled. A flash of sharp teeth. "It's something I haven't seen in a long time even in Olympic territory."

"Interaction with _what_?" Snape snarled. "He ignored her the whole time."

"With the ice," Tom said, without missing a beat. "It's beautiful."

This was it. Harry's brain had short-circuited and he had started hallucinating from the trauma. What was Tom Riddle … what was he _saying_?

"His skating is _fascinating_."

Snape looked extremely put off.  
"No it wasn't."

"It _was_ ," Tom said, eyes landing on Harry again. "You want to know what ruined this performance? His partner. There was no chemistry between them."

Ginny looked like she had been slapped across the face. She turned the other way. Harry saw tears well up, and he wanted to go comfort her but found that he couldn't move.

"This is unbelievable," Snape breathed. "What are you saying?"

"Let him skate with me."

 _What?_

 _What. The. Hell?_

Harry didn't even see Riddle get up before the man was in his face, hand reaching out to grab his bicep. _What_. He reeled back.

"Hmm," Tom said. "You're weak. No wonder you struggled to lift her."

Harry's tongue flopped uselessly in his mouth.

"U-uh you want to skate with me?" His brain really had short-circuited this time. "I'm not going to do that!"

Tom arched an eyebrow. "I would reconsider if I were you. Do you want to go to Hogwarts or not?"

"We've never even been partners before!"

"I am aware of that."

"We have no choreography! No music, no idea how to synchronise with each other," Harry sputtered.

"Skate and I'll synchronise with you. Jump and I will catch you."

Harry quailed under the intensity of Tom's gaze. He had to hand it to the man – he had presence. No wonder the Olympic judges all adored him.

"And … if you miss?"

It wasn't a challenge as much as the fear blossoming across his chest. Every amateur skater knew it. Pair skating was a dangerous sport. Get too close to your partner's blades and you could have your calf sliced open. Jump and you better hope your partner catch you. The ice was unforgiving.

"Then you crash and possibly break your neck."

~ 0O0 ~

Each time his eyes became fixated on the intricate lines in the ice, as his second instinct, Tom would force him to look up. To make eye contact. To dance with him.

When the violins hit the high note, Harry buried himself in the music and launched himself into the air from a standstill. No longer bound by gravity, as he pirouetted through the air. Coldness and air against his face.

It should have been a triple Salchow.

It would have been a triple Salchow, but he never hit the ice. Tom caught him with one arm, lazily like a hawk snagging its prey, and raised Harry into a twist lift. The position was unfamiliar – more up Ginny's alley than Harry's – but he was not about to be daunted.

He rode on the last of the momentum to do a split before throwing himself into a series of rotations. Tom's arms followed perfectly, not a second behind. No wonder he won the bloody World Championships five consecutive times.

Tom thrust him up – and Harry went flying through the air. It was the highest he had ever been, higher than any jump he could reach from the ground. The timing was perfect, so he closed his eyes. Followed the natural twirl of his body reacting towards gravity. Fed on his adrenaline.

And landed on his right leg in his first, and absolutely perfect Quadruple Salchow.

Thrilled, Harry propelled himself forward across the eyes.

He didn't get very far before Tom was upon him and sweeping him up again by the waist.

By the fifth time he was stolen from the safety of the ice and hurled up into the air, Harry could feel sweat burst across his neck and palms in a way he had rarely had to put up with before. He was usually the one who tossed Ginny while she did the twists and turns and splits.

Now he found himself mercilessly thrown – again and again and again. Forced to spin and land again and again. The exertion was almost too much.

Yet being left without choreography and only the disquietingly dangerous glint in the world class skater's eyes meant Harry had to watch Tom's every move.

Harry had thought Tom Riddle, of all people, would know the danger of performing jumps and spirals without fully understanding the other skater. But Tom seemed to have no such reservations. Every time he threw Harry, it was violent and without warning.

Even two seconds of distraction could mean that Harry would face a head-on collision with the ice he loved so much and give himself a deadly concussion.

Scarily, he could feel his muscles cramping, and his chest stretched tight with not having enough oxygen. He just didn't think he had the energy to do another triple whatever jump.

But the music was far from ending, and when Harry tried to meet Tom's eyes, communicate that he was done, the skater ignored him.

The music picked up pace.

And Tom streamed towards him, skates gliding effortlessly over the ice like a swan. Legs straight and arms strong. There was no way Harry could keep up with that kind of stamina.

So he turned and fled.

The air whistled through his hair as he skated around the rink. It was at once terrifying and amazing how Tom managed to keep up with him without crashing into him. Predicting his next move, blocking it.

Forcing him to swerve and leap and duck under that pseudo-punch-grab that came out of nowhere. It was all about speed now, and the music was just hitting the crescendo before the end of the piece, so Harry's moves seemed oddly fitting.

Harry soared across the rink, in flight, a swan from a hawk.

His hair was wet and dripping into his eyes. He could not even blink them away anymore.

God, the music was finally ending.

Yet at the final note, Tom threw himself into a quadruple Axel – notoriously the most difficult manoeuvre in the ice skating world and from _that_ position – and landed in front of Harry.

Harry froze.

The music stopped.

And his knees finally gave out.

With a dull thud, Harry ended up half-sitting, half-kneeling on the ice.

When he looked up, Tom Riddle had already divested his skates and joined the legendary panel of judges, looking still ever so composed and only the faintest of red on his cheek to suggest he had just performed a ten minute routine.

"I believe we are decided then?"

* * *

 _A/N: Fling me a review; I'd love to hear your thoughts on this or - ya know - Yuri on Ice 3_


	2. Chapter 2

Ripped in Half

"I believe we are decided then?"

A choked, guttural sound escaped from Severus Snape's throat. Feeling rather like an insect under a glass jar, Harry did his best to hold himself still as the man's eyes darted furiously over him, as if noting down all the details he had passed over before.

Tom lounged back in his chair, smirking.

"That was –" Snape cut himself off.

Harry perched on the edge of the rink, skate toeing the ice in apprehension as he waited for the next words. They never came. As if he had never spoken, Snape took a sip from his glass of water and grimaced like he had just downed curdled milk.

" _That_ was simply marvellous," McGonagall breathed. Her glasses had slid down to settle at the bottom of her nose. She pushed them up with one slightly shaky. "Tom, you _do_ have an eye for diamonds in the rough. Consider me impressed."

The compliment – and from _Minerva McGonagall_ no less – felt equal parts wonderful and painful. It was as though Harry's heart had grown wings and fluttered upwards, to thrash violently against his chest. He couldn't think straight – and it wasn't just the nerves; Harry was sure that the sheer ecstasy of skating with Riddle had something to do with it.

Skating with Ginny felt good – but it had never felt like _that_. With Ginny, he felt safe on the ice, content just to skate – and then with Riddle – there was a delicious taste of danger that had all his senses spinning into overdrive, that thrill, those jumps, the air rushing past his ears when he hurled himself up at a new challenge – it was something else altogether.

Olympic champion no wonder.

"Severus, stop staring before you scare him off," Tom said – and Harry had never heard a tone so coated by smugness in his life – "Besides, I believe you'll have all the time in the world to admire him when he comes to Hogwarts."

"We have decided nothing," Snape finally ground out, eyes still tearing into Harry's flesh. "He is weak, untrained –"

"I do believe that is _our_ job," Tom inserted delicately.

"– and one of the most brutish skaters I have ever seen," Snape finished.

Tom's eyes glistened. "And here I thought that was one of his charms."

Harry stood there, wringing his hands awkwardly, as the insults and praises flew through the air faster than he could breathe. His head was beginning to hurt. McGonagall caught his straying eyes and gave him a wry smile.

When he zoned back into the conversation after what felt like ten minutes, they were still going at it heartily.

"Take a _look_ at the boy. All that sweat. He is _weak_." Snape practically spat out the word. "If that little show tired him out, can you imagine him skating for Hogwarts? It's a bad joke. He doesn't even have the body of a skater!"

The strand of sweat-soaked hair dangling desolately in front of Harry's vision did not – unfortunately – obscure Snape's sour expression. The man seemed to have taken a personal distaste to him. Harry tried to subtly wipe his sweaty palms on his pants but if anything, it just made them clammier.

"Severus! There's no need for this!" McGonagall was aghast.

"It's the truth," Snape sneered. "He has no muscles at all. I'm surprised he even had strength in those muscles to do a quad without falling on his face." Suddenly, he whirled on Harry. "How old are you again? Have you even started puberty?"

Harry flushed in sheer mortification. He blinked at the black-haired ex-skater disbelievingly. He had been willing to stand and just take it before – but this was going a bit far. Maybe there was some truth behind the phrase 'never meet your heroes' after all. He had heard so many horror stories about celebrities; now he had a personal story to add to the list.

"Well?" Snape said impatiently.

Harry's head jerked up. "Uh … I'm … that wasn't a rhetorical question?"

"No. It wasn't." Snape turned to Tom. "He's an idiot."

His fists clenched down. And before he could stop himself, Harry's tongue was lashing out with a will of its own – "Sorry, my bad. I didn't realise you spent so much time looking down at me that you didn't have any time to look down at the sheet in front of you. It says sixteen. So yes, I _have_ started puberty."

There was a sharp intake of breath and a stunned silence filtered across the room.

Harry was already kicking himself, cursing his mouth, when Tom Riddle broke out of his blank expression and started laughing. It was a sharp, amused sound, and the walls of the skate hall amplified it. Harry froze in surprise.

"He has spirit." Tom's slender fingers danced on the edge of his drinking glass.

"Rude too," Snape noted. "And here I thought you were spineless."

"Don't listen to Severus, Harry – can I call you Harry?" McGonagall said kindly, ignoring the dark look Snape sent her. "He's just bitter that he didn't catch onto your talent before Tom did. By the _lords_ , I have never seen a style like yours before …"

"That would be because he has no style," Snape said dryly. "Can you imagine how he would look skating beside our best students? He is practically a rhinoceros in a china cabinet. The boy has no skill whatsoever; even you have to admit it."

"This scholarship is for talent, not skill. Otherwise you could have just given it to our richest students who have had private coaches train them for most of their pampered lives." Tom brushed back his hair nonchalantly and added: "And they would probably use it for firewood."

There was an audible click as Snape's jaws snapped shut.

The glare that Snape shot Tom could have turned water to ice, but Tom Marvolo Riddle already _was_ the ice – everyone knew it – so the man simply reached across the table and with a crisp snap, signed the scholarship certificate.

 _"_ _What are you doing?"_

"No one better is coming along."

Snape scowled.

"Harry James Potter," Tom drawled out the name as if tasting it on his tongue. "You are now officially a Hogwarts student on the most prestigious scholarship Hogwarts has to offer. Congratulations."

Harry could do nothing but nod numbly. He had never physically owned this much money in his life – and his parents' didn't count. Two hundred thousand dollars. A filthy rich school indeed. Like his parents, his mind whispered harshly. Harry shut it out. This was his moment. He could still remember the days when he struggled to scrounge up ten dollars for food.

As if reading his mind, the five-time world champion flashed a smile, sharp at the edges like glass. "We don't give out this money for nothing, you understand. The scholarship acts as a bond – you belong to the school until you graduate unless you are expelled. Anything less and the school will be taking legal action against you."

Harry let the words wash over him.

Why would he ever want to leave the school before his time was up?

"Sign here please," Snape said waspishly.

He signed – the red ink looked uncannily like blood – and the deed was done.

Harry thought he glimpsed an ominous glint in Tom's eye, but it was gone in the next second and the latter had his features schooled in an expression of politeness. Fingers steepled, he offered Harry another charismatic smile.

Oh God.

He couldn't believe it.

They were going to Hogwarts.

They actually managed to get the scholarship.

He couldn't think – he could hardly breathe – and all the air was whistling past his ears.

Harry turned around enthusiastically, expecting to be greeted with a faceful of red hair and Ginny's brilliant grin, but the laugh died on his lips as soon as he saw Ginny – pale and stiff – offer him a mute, watery smile. It lacked all the warmth that Harry associated with Ginny. With a jolt, he realised she had yet to speak a single word since Tom whisked him away, onto the ice.

"I –Ginny?" he said tentatively. "What's wrong?"

"Good job, Harry." The smile grew a bit brighter and a lot more forced. "I'm so, so happy for you."

And she launched herself at him, crushing him in a hug. Harry winced slightly as her hand gripped his shoulder with bruising strength. As their cheeks brushed together, he realised that hers were damp.

God – tears?

"You deserve this more than anyone in the world," she whispered into his ear, warm breath soft. "I just know you'll do great at Hogwarts, even without me." The breath turned ice cold, and his heart stopped in mid thump.

"No."

It came out as a whisper. Half dazed with shock, Harry flung a hand over his face, eyes widening as he stared at Ginny. With dawning horror, he realised exactly what – and no, no, this could not be bloody happening – she was implying.

He twisted around, frantic, and searched the faces of the judges.

McGonagall averted his eyes regretfully, Severus Snape sneered – by now Harry knew, with growing dislike, that it was his default expression – and Tom Riddle wore the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"I-" Harry cleared his throat. "Is the scholarship for both of us?"

Snape threw him a look of disdain. "We are not charity cases. This is a scholarship, not a 'buy one, get one free' sale. Miss Ginny Weasley will not be joining you."

It felt like someone knocked all the air out of him.

Harry gripped Ginny's hand tighter.

"No," he said, louder.

Snape arched an eyebrow so that it almost completely disappeared in the creases of his forehead.

"Excuse me?"

"Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" Harry asked lowly, almost a whisper. He should technically not be speaking like this, not to the judges, his future professors and the people who made up the very pinnacle of ice skating – and he wouldn't have dreamed of it an hour ago – but he could not give a crap right now.

After all the hours – hundreds upon hundreds of hours – that he and Ginny put into their skating, all that effort and time and blood and sweat and tears, only _one_ of them was going to have the chance to chase their dream?

"The scholarship was supposed to be for two people," Harry continued, ignoring Ginny's look of dismay. "We applied as a pair."

"Harry," Tom started softly, a slow smile spreading across his face in a way that reminded Harry horribly of how the red ink spread across the page, "as I said once before, and I will repeat for you: do you know what ruined your first performance?"

Harry stared at him, speechless, while Ginny's grip on him became harder as if she was trying to keep herself from crying.

"Her."

 _"_ _That's not true."_

"She's a burden to you. Your skate partner. Friend. Girlfriend. Whoever she is to you."

From the corner of his eye, he saw the red tint of Ginny's eyes, the reddening freckles, and his chest tightened even more.

"We came as a _pair_."

"If we are talking technicalities, it is your skate with me that got you accepted. If anything, the other scholarship should go to _me_."

As if to diffuse the tension, Tom Riddle chuckled lightly, in a way Harry once might have found charming but now …

"I am saying it as it is, _Harry_. You don't get far in the world of professional figure skating if you can't face the truth." The long fingers played with the edge of Harry's scholarship certificate, the certificate that only had _Harry's_ name, not Ginny's. "I see potential in you that will only be dragged down if you were to take her."

Harry sagged.

Please, this could not be happening. They had been in this together, they'd agreed to win together and lose together. No regrets. Somehow, it felt _wrong_ to move forward while Ginny was left sitting in the dust. _It was cruel to her._

"Ginny … God, I'm so sorry –"

He stopped.

Ginny was looking at Tom with what looked like hope in her eyes.

...

"You said that we, that is, Harry and I, didn't have chemistry," she stammered breathlessly.

Tom arched an eyebrow.

"And you skated with him."

"I did."

Ginny was looking at the older skater with a look of imploring anxiety. "Could you please skate with me too?"

Harry's heart clenched on Ginny's behalf at the look of surprise in Tom's eyes.

"I mean, we didn't have chemistry, but perhaps I could have chemistry with you," Ginny said in a rush. "He might not be the right partner for me, but it doesn't mean that I can't skate. Please, let me do it again with you."

Snape scoffed. "See the can of worms you opened?"

Heaving a delicate sigh, Tom locked eyes with Ginny. "I'm sorry, Ginny, but your skating, while beautiful, was not enough."

"You said the same for Harry."

"I know." Tom paused. "But there was something there that I had to see for myself."

"What harm could it do to skate a few minutes with me?"

Harry had never seen this insistency in Ginny before, but he agreed with her absolutely – after all, her future was on the line.

"I have seen enough of your skating to understand it."

"I don't understand!" she cried. The pair of skates she held in her arms clattered noisily to the ground. She bit her lip, glancing in Harry's direction and tears threatened to spill over. "People always said I was the better skater. That I have better control, more grace. To be fair, I thought this might happen that you might only take one of us – I'm sorry Harry – but I thought that if anything, they'd chose … J-just let me show you."

It was so quiet in the hall that he could hear the thumps of his own pulse.

He knew he probably shouldn't think anything of it, but Ginny's words hurt.

"I didn't realise the scholarship was going to be given on terms of _special treatment!_ "

Harry's blood froze.

The dam broke, and tears ran down Ginny' face, taking the beautifully applied mascara with it. Her face lined with black streaks. She kicked her discarded skates to the side. Harry watched in horror as she tore her eyes from Tom and fixed them on him. Then, with a sob, tried to flee.

"Ginny!"

Harry grabbed her by the arm, and tried to pull her into an embrace, some of the mascara rubbing off onto his shoulder. She gave a muffled yell and shoved him away. The hurt look on her face, full of bitterness and desperation, sent him stumbling back more than the physical shove did.

Ginny turned and ran, trying to hide her face from the judges in her sleeve.

"Wait!"

Harry whisked Ginny's abandoned skates up from the floor. Those had been her grandmother's and he knew how much they meant to her – not to mention how pricey new skates were – so he chased after her.

"Ginny, your –"

She twisted around, and tore the skates from Harry's upturned hands. He saw, rather than felt, the sharp grey blades of the skates slash through the vulnerable skin. At first it looked almost like the ice. A thin, delicate line of red across his palm like the scratch on the ice rink. It only took a fraction of a second before the skin _ripped_.

His eyes widened at the sharp sting.

He was dimly aware that Ginny had taken the skates and left, after a moment of hesitation.

There was a lot of red. It rushed out from the gash, and all Harry could do was clench down on his wrist with his other hand to stop the shaking.

And then Tom was kneeling beside him, expressionless, dark eyes flitting over the wound, white bandages trailing in his hand.

"Honestly, I do not know who is more reckless." _Pain_ , as the bandage tightened around his hand. "You or her."

* * *

 _A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed that. It means the world when you fling a review xD_


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